This was to be a bit of a celebration weekend. It was Sue’s big birthday on the Saturday, two projects I have been working on were coming to a finish and we were going to meet up with some friends Pete and Julie, who we hadn’t seen for over a year…. in fact since we went to Barnard Castle Camping and Caravanning Club’s site back in August 2011. Mind you it wasn’t a certainty we would see them this time…. they live in a small valley on the North Yorkshire Moors and it was looking like they might be snowed in.

Last year we had wanted to go to Lincoln’s Christmas Market but Sue had to work the weekend that the Lincoln market was on so we had to change date and location to Wrexham (see my post Wrexham Christmas Market). This year it fitted in nicely with Sue’s birthday. Back in September I had booked a site that was only five or six miles outside Lincoln at Thorpe-on-the-Hill just off the A46. Thorpe Park Lodgesis a C & CC CL which only started a couple of years ago but from their website looked really nice. As you can probably guess from the name is mainly lodges but does have a number of pitches for caravans and motor homes.

Ant and his DR107

The first project I had been working on ground to a halt. I had been building a new ‘Santa’s Sleigh’ on a trailer for my local Rotary club and what should have been a simple task of obtaining 12 volt LED rope light proved a challenge. 12 volt is available in the USA, but not it seems in the UK. After two weeks of trying, I decided to run the old lights from the previous float via a couple of small inverters. Come spring when I have a bit more time I will be ordering 12 volt rope light from the USA. The second project is an aerobatic airplane. A close friend has been building a DR107 aerobatic aircraft and for my sins I designed and built the electrical system for the aircraft. After a bit of an issue with the new engine which required its removal and return to the engine builder, we had reinstalled it and were waiting for the guy who built it to come up to the airfield to do the final checks so we could start it. Unfortunately I was waiting for stuff to arrive for the float so wasn’t there for the start…. which went well. I was due to go with Anthony the following day to set up some of the electronics now the engine was running but had to put it off till after the weekend due to a delay in getting bits for the float. Ant decided to go and was on his way to Sleap airfield to do some finishing work on the aircraft and unfortunately hit black ice. He managed to reduce his car to a mangled pile of scrap and in the process broke both legs, crushed a couple of vertebrae and broke an arm. It took about an hour to cut him out and as a bonus he got a free flight in the air ambulance. Considering he’s a captain for Easy Jet it must have been hard not to say “cabin doors to manual” when they landed at Stoke Hospital. He was in intensive care for several days but the day before we were due to set off for Lincoln I went down to see him in hospital. I have to thank his girlfriend and family at this point as I kind of jumped the queue a bit as some of his family had not been able to see him yet.

Friday 7th December arrived and we loaded up the Freelander with our boxes. It was only a short run to the caravan storage place and by 11:10 we were hitched up and on our way. Normally our route to Lincoln from Manchester would be over the top, either Woodhead or the Snake Pass. Both were closed due to snow, so to head south-east we had to set off north up the M60 to join the M62 and turn east to head over to Pontefract and pick up the A1M southbound. At least the Freelander was behaving its self running on UK diesel after our problems with the French stuff, although we are still looking for a LR Discovery as the primary tow vehicle now.

The M62 had its usual Friday crawl through the road works but once through that it was a fairly clear run south on the A1 to just north of Newark-on-Trent where we picked up the A49 into Lincoln. We pulled into Thorpe Park Lodges entrance bang on 2:00PM. The barrier is controlled by a key less system so I left Sue in the Freelander and wandered in to find reception… which was still in the final stages of being built. A helpful young chap who was just finishing off some of the exterior trim work on the building greeted me and he walked back with me to open the barrier. He told us we could park on any of the vacant pitches and said they would be full for the weekend. We followed the little track round past a motor home, then past another mahoosive motor home based on a lorry chassis, past another and finally on to pitch 8 which had a view through the trees of the fishing lake… mind you they all had views of the fishing lake!

We unhitched and with the help of the chap who let us in swung the van round and pulled it forward ‘nose in’ to the pitch so we had a perfect view of the lake. We soon had the steadies down and the heater on. Between each pair of pitches is the EHU bollard and next to it there is a fresh water tap so no long walks towing the aquaroll were required. It would not take much to upgrade each tap to allow a super pitch type water supply to each caravan or motor home. I didn’t even have to turn the Status TV aerial to get all the lights on the signal strength meter lit, I have never seen them all on before!

Saturday 8th December

A view of our caravan through the trees

It was Sue’s birthday and she opened all the cards we had brought with us. We had arranged to meet up with Pete and Julie in Lincoln at 12:00. They were staying on a site at Sturton near RAF Scampton. They had not been able to book into Thorpe Park Lodges as it was full when they tried to book!

Earlier that morning I had been chatting to our neighbours who were in a rather nice motor home next to us. They were from the north east and had also travelled down for the Christmas market. They had tried to book a taxi earlier to take them into Lincoln but had been told that it was not advisable to take a dog as it was already very busy…. I’d looked at the park and ride for the market and found it only operated from Lincoln show ground which was about 12 miles away to the north and cost a whopping £15. A taxi seemed like a good idea. We rang the number our neighbours had given us and ordered a taxi. The girl on the other end of the phone told me it would be 11:45 before it could pick us up as they were busy. I said we would wait at the entrance to the site.

By 12:10 Pete was on the phone to Sue asking where we were…. just as the taxi arrived. We agreed to meet them in front of the cathedral…. and asked the taxi driver to drop us close to the cathedral. We followed the A46 bypass around Lincoln and as we crossed a roundabout half joking I said to Sue “Look there’s a Frankie and Bennies, if it all goes pear shape and we can’t find somewhere in Lincoln for your birthday we can go there” The taxi driver overheard us and as we approached the next roundabout he said “If you like ribs, Damon’s is the best place to go”. The taxi driver dropped us off as near to the cathedral as he could. We wandered down the street and rang Pete & Julie to tell them that we would be there in a few minutes.

This is where it started to go pear-shaped. In its effort to cram as many stalls in as possible Lincoln council had to instigate a one way system and at first it was not too bad, but by the time we had entered the market we were down to a shuffle wedged in between hundreds of others shuffling in the same direction. We reached the first corner and knew that Pete and Julie were just the other side of a temporary barrier across the street. The ever efficient council support staff took a break from their texting to tell us that it was a one way system and we had to go round… we set off again shuffling along past some stalls which we couldn’t get near as the shuffling masses pressed on relentlessly. We approached the cathedral gardens and there was a gate staffed by more council support staff…. some texting but most leaning on the barrier. I asked if we could go through round the front of the cathedral… sorry this is for disabled only you have to follow the one way system. It took us 35 minutes of mindless shuffling like something out of a bad 1950’s Russian propaganda film to complete three sides of the cathedral. Lincoln Christmas Market had succeeded in removing any Christmas spirit from us and hundreds of other people. To make matters worse an Orwellian dismembered voice kept announcing over the tannoy that there was a one way system in operation for our convenience….

We finally met up with Pete and Julie and Sue managed to grab a cup of mulled wine as we shuffled past a mulled wine stall relentlessly on towards the castle. Once inside the castle grounds this is where in my opinion it became dangerous. We got to a point where the route turned and became narrower. The shuffling stopped and we were penned in. I turned and looked back and saw they were still allowing people in to the castle grounds and the exit was blocked. We stood for about 5 minutes not moving, then we shuffled forward a couple of feet and stood again for another five minutes. Behind us they were still letting people in. Small children were now being lifted up and put on the shoulders of parents and I could not have lifted my arms up. Some pwople were obviously getting a bit panicky and a few of the stall holders were now letting people ‘escape’ the mass and stand at the back of the stalls. It took 40 minutes to reach the castle gateway, I guess a distance of maybe 100 metres and cross over the small bridge. That was it, we like hundreds of others were looking for a way out. We had all had enough.

We eventually made our way out and found ourselves at the top of The Steep Hill. Sue and I had a number of years ago visited Browns Pie Shop and I thought that this might be somewhere for a spot of late lunch as there was no chance of getting anything in the Christmas market. However the council support staff struck again. In site of Browns Pie Shop we were told we had to follow the one way system… which meant going down a back street to the bottom of The Steep Hill and coming back up with the one way system. For feck’s sake. Sorry Browns Pie Shop, you lost some trade.

Earlier Pete and Julie had driven to the park and ride…. and after recovering from the shock of the £15 fee decided to drive in to Lincoln and chance parking…. which was not actually a problem as they found a pay and display car park right in the centre which was a lot cheaper. After trying to negotiate our way through the main street that was jammed with people shuffling towards the Steep Hill, and the entrance to Christmas Market Purgatory, we headed back to Pete and Julie’s car.

Damon’s takeout menu

We soon found ourselves heading out of Lincoln on the A46. In the car we were discussing what to do for Sue’s birthday as none of us wanted to go back into Lincoln and as luck would have it we were approaching the roundabout where Damon’s our taxi driver’s recommendation was. Julie or Sue said lets call in and see if there is a menu we can look at for tonight. Pete parked up and the girls disappeared inside. I stood next to Pete’s car and had a cigar. I’d not had a cigar since we were in French France.

The girls came out clutching a menu…. we all had a quick look and agreed this was the place. They had recommended booking as they were busy so the girls disappeared back inside and booked a table for the four of us at 6:45. Pete and Julie ran us back to our caravan so they could have a look round the site and have a quick coffee. THey then set off back to their caravan and we agreed to meet up in the bar at 6:30 for 6:45 at Damon’s

It’s funny the things that you do sometimes…. I decided that the kettle needed a sort out. Ever since France it had built up a huge amount of limescale. Luckily we had some white wine vinegar in the comestibles box and a quick boil with a 50/50 mix of white wine vinegar and water shifted most of it. A second boiling with a fresh mix cleared the rest and a third of just fresh water to remove any possible taste of vinegar. One of my next jobs will be to tackle the water heater and pipes in the caravan as we definitely have reduced flow.

We arrived early a Damon’s and sat at the bar for a while. It was announced our table was ready, but no Pete and Julie. We decided to sit at the table and wait as the bar was filling up quickly. While we sat waiting we perused the menu… 6:45 and no P & J. We were sat at a table for six on our own and this place was packed to the doors… the waiter came back, were we ready to order? Er…no we were still waiting for our friends. Sue rang Pete…. “Where are you?”. “Stood at the bar”. After much arm waiving and gesticulating Sue went off to collect them. I spotted on the back of the menu it said anyone with a birthday gets their meal for free. When Sue arrived back with P & J I asked one of the waitresses… all we needed was proof like a driving licence. I asked her if she had her driving licence with her…. Sue had a firtle in the magic bag that is the hold-all of all handbags…. no she had left her purse back in the caravan. It’s just our luck!

Considering the place was packed to the rafters, the service was excellent and the food was great. The taxi driver was right, Damon’s was the best place to go for ribs… and steak for that matter. What started as a disaster of a day was made up for by our visit to Damon’s, and if you are in the Lincoln area we can recommend it… and if it’s your birthday take your driving licence!

Sunday 9th December

Not wanting to head back into Lincoln again, we had a quick look on the internet for anything else that was on. At the Lincoln Show Ground there was an antique market … sometimes these are just excuses for people to empty the contents of their loft onto an old pasting table. Pete had gone in search of LPG for their car and we agreed to ring them if the antique market was anything special. There were a few interesting stalls, but we didn’t spot anything that was worth raiding the piggy bank for. We rang P & J and arranged to meet them for a pub lunch. They were staying near Sturton-by-Stow so we headed out that direction and found two local pubs in the village. We chose The Plough Inn simply because there were more cars in the car park… logically thinking it was more popular. Sue tried to ring Pete to tell him… no signal… I managed to send a text through but as Pete was on a new phone and he only had Sue’s number he might ignore it. We went in and ordered drinks. We were perusing the large blackboard that was acting as the menu when the people leaving the table just in front of the blackboard commented and said they had just had a meal and it was wonderful. This was a good sign!

P & J finally arrived and we all ordered, I decided to go the whole hog and ordered the mixed grill…. well it was a very late ‘brunch’ really. The recommendation given to us earlier was not wrong, it was good home-made and honest food. After spending a lazy Sunday lunch in the pub, we headed off to P & J’s caravan. We had not seen their ‘new to them’ caravan. Their last one had sadly ‘died’ not long after the Barnard Castle adventure and they had spent a while looking for a new van. This one was a rather nice and well looked after 1998 Coachman Wanderer 16/5

It was getting late, I was all coffee’d out and the wine had run out about an hour earlier. It was time to leave P & J and head back to our caravan. We went back ‘cross country’ on some of the smaller roads which had been gritted not long before we drove over them. It was only about eight miles this way we missed out the A46 and traffic-cone city. We settled down in the van with our feet up to reflect on the weekend. With the exception of the Christmas market, maybe it had not been a bad weekend. We had a couple of nice meals with good friends and we had both been able to enjoy a drink or two in turn, although we didn’t drink any of the mulled wine we took with us!

Monday morning arrived all to soon and it was time to pack up and hitch up. The couple of motor homes that didn’t leave on Sunday also started packing up and by the time we were hitched up, there was us and our neighbours from the north-east left. We left at around 10:50 and at 13:20 we pulled into the storage place to drop off the van.

Would we visit Lincoln Christmas Market again?. Probably not, but we would most definitely stay again at Thorpe Park Lodges, but don’t tell anyone….. we don’t want it to get too busy there!

It was another early start. We were up at 6:00AM as we needed to be pulling out of the site at 07:00 in order to stand any chance of making the 110 mile drive to Dunkerque for the ferry which sailed at 12:00. We were supposed to book in at least one hour before, so we really needed to be there for around 11:00. As had become the norm, it had started raining during the night and now it was torrential. Sue did all the inside stuff while I got soaked outside. It was that wet and soggy on the pitch I wondered if we had made an error… was I going to be able to pull the caravan off the pitch?. In order to speed things up, I’d actually lined up the Freelander so the tow ball was directly below the hitch the previous night, and I’d also heeded what the English couple had said when we arrived that they thought it was too wet for their twin axle. When I’d reversed the caravan on to the pitch, I had made sure the front wheels of the Freelander were still right on the edge of the solid road. I hoped this was going to be the ace up my sleeve.

I worked from back to front again… Thetford cassette, wastehog, aquarol and finally EHU lead. Everything was stored in the appropriate locker and I wound up the steadies. Sue remained inside the caravan until I was hitched up and I pulled 50 metres off the pitch onto the road, thankfully without any tearing up of the pitch which by now was a big puddle. At this point Sue dashed out of the van into the car and I went the other way. I was soaked so needed to dry off and get changed in the van.

Sue got the maps out and fired up the Sat-nav…. it came on but the screen was frozen. She tried the “off and on again” trick… nope it was not having it. I’d got back in the car at this point and I tried a reset… it froze on the “do you accept the….” screen. It had turned French. I’d had my suspicions that it was changing nationality when it started to remind me to drive on the right each time I turned it on, now it had gone all the way and gone on immediate strike. I expect this was it’s way of blockading the ports.

“Right, you’ll have to map read, we need to get moving” I said turning on the Freelanders map reading light and handing Sue a torch. She was not a happy camper. Trying to map read with a map not designed for navigation, in the dark, with it pissing down and some iffy road signs was not going to be a pleasurable experience….. for either of us…. and lack of caffeine was not going to help the situation.

I lit a cigar, clamped it between my teeth and with the window half open and rain streaming through the gap we pulled out of the site at 7:05 puffing like a steam train and looking like something out of an American road trip movie. I headed in to Pont Audemer to pick up the signs for the A13 and eventually A28 north. Now this is where it went a bit wrong. At one sign it said left for A13 & Le Havre – the direction we didn’t want to go and right for the A13, which I assumed would take us to Rouen and then I could follow signs for the A28. We turned right. We followed the road which was a bit of a nightmare as it climbed and turned sharply, not ideal in a Freelander that was now having power issues, ,m and torrential rain in the dark. The signs for the A13 stopped and the road we were on Sue could not find on the map. After about 20 minutes we arrived at a roundabout, Ah Ha! A131 to Le Harvre…. we needed to go the other way. 30 minutes later we were doing our Bonnie Tyler impression again…. We ended up descending a steep hill into a small town in the bottom of a valley… and the signs stopped again. I managed to find a place to pull in. “I don’t think we will make the ferry” I said as it was now just gone eight thirty and we did not know how far we were off route.

Resigned to the fact we were not going to make the ferry, I took a pointy thing and prodded the reset button of the sat-nav. It rebooted and got to the “do you accept the….” screen. I prodded the “OK” button on the screen and it carried on booting up. The instant strike was over and the ports un-blockaded. Bugger, why didn’t it do this the half dozen times I’d tried before. I punched in “Dunkerque” and “Fastest Route”…. it told me to take the next right, which was a bit tight and at the end the next right again…. which after about 100 metres went even tighter. I turned round, thankfully there was a service yard for a company I could reverse into and pull straight out again in the other direction. I retraced our steps to the road we had parked on a few minutes earlier. This time it rerouted us back the way we had come, back up the steep hill to one of the round-abouts we had been on earlier and told us to take the road we had discounted, the “A131 Le Havre” road. We followed the directions and found ourselves back on the big toll bridge crossing the river Seine that we had crossed a few days earlier. Well at least we were now on the right side of the Seine! About 4 Km further on the road came to a roundabout… A131 Le Havre in one direction and the D something or other to the A28 in the other direction. Woo Hoo.

“It’s dark, we have 3/4 of a tank of gas and are not wearing sunglasses…. hit it”

That was it, the Freelander was not feeling well and we needed to get a wiggle on. It was something past nine and according to the sat-nav we had 96 miles to go. I have to say, it was now touch and go if we even made it to the port as I was having to come down into third gear for some of the inclines. “Our Lady of Blessed Acceleration don’t fail me now“! We kept pressing on, the fuel gauge was going down, it was raining, the traffic was getting heavier the further north we got. The miles (or Kilometres) seemed to click down slowly. Eventually we passed signs for the ferry terminal at Calais… only a few more miles to go and it was 11:05…. the ferry sailed at 12:00. The first sign for the ferry terminal at Dunkerque…. 11:15. We took the exit and followed the road to the first roundabout….”clear” Sue shouted…. It sounded like she was going to administer a shock from a cardiac defibrillator. I flew across the roundabout…… 11:20…. on to the next one……. “second exit – clear” Sue shouted….. 11:25 “second exit – clear”. How many bloody roundabouts did they need ?. Finally the last one and we entered the ferry terminal and joined a queue of three or four vehicles.

The check in time….. 11:36:59…. Woo Hoo!

It was exactly 11:36 when I pulled up at the window. Sue handed our passports over and a minute later we were handed our dangly thing and told to follow the other few cars round to the UK Border Agency checkpoint….. where in good old British tradition there was a big queue. They inspected our passports and allowed us to pass…. What amazed me was the fact the dangly thing that we had been issed with to hang on the mirror showed us with 4 passengers and no one asked us where the other two were. We followed the concrete barriers round to the next checkpoint.

We stopped while another UK Border Agency chap checked our passports again and looked in the Freelander. Still no question about the two “missing” passengers. He asked to see in the caravan. It was now 11:54. I jumped out of the car and ran round to unlock the caravan door. I had expected him just to look in… Oh no, he wanted to check in the bathroom…..and lift the bed….. and check in the wardrobe….. and check under each front seat. Satisfied he thanked me and jumped down from the van. I locked the door, ran round to the Freelander and jumped in. 11:57.

We followed the road round and I was expecting now to get waived into a lane to wait for the next ferry along with the cars behind me. All that effort to miss the ferry by 3 minutes. I could see the crew stood by the winches for the shore lines……. As we approached the point where we needed to turn for lane ‘L’ one of the shore crew waived his arms wildly and pointed to the ramp. Despite being poorly, the Freelander seemed to know she was going home and shot up the ramp rattling away.

11:59 I turned the engine off and put the handbrake on. The only thing now was did we have enough fuel to actually get off the ferry and out of the port in Dover. That worry was two hours away. By the time we were entering the restaurant the ship was already moving slowly away from the quay side. There was hardly anyone in the restaurant so we grabbed two trays and shuffled over to the hot food counter. By the time we had got our food and drinks we were already making the turn to head out of the inner waterway. I put my card in the machine by the till…. it said wrong pin number… I tried again… wrong pin number and asked me for my pin again, warning me it was my last chance before my card was blocked. Bugger. I paid the bill with some of the Euros I had, at a really rip off exchange rate. We settled down by one of the big round windows at the side of the ferry just as we cleared the harbour into open sea. We couldn’t see much as it was piddling down again.

We stood with the other passengers infront of the big window watching as some unseen person performed the most delicate of ballets and pirouetted the ship round in the confines of Dover harbour and gently reversed thousands of tonnes back into a berth without any hesitation. I understand the physics of it, but the application was a skill few could emulate.

We were back in the Freelander waiting for the ferry doors to open. We drove down the ramp from the ferry and headed towards the exit ramp that climbs up to the upper exit road of the port. I really hoped we would not have to stop on that ramp as the Freelander was rattling away and I seemed to have only just enough power to pull away on the level, let alone do a hill start. We also didn’t have much fuel, the needle was on red, but the light hadn’t come on yet. Thankfully we exited the port without any issues. Now for fuel. All the way out of Dover there are filling stations on the opposite carriageway coming in, but nothing on the way out. We were almost on the M20 which I didn’t want to go on until we had fuel. We pulled off the last exit before you get onto the motorway and asked the now perfectly behaved sat-nav to take us to the nearest filling station, which just happened to be on Tram Road in Folkestone, which was down hill all the way.

It took 61.14 litres to brim the tank again and since we had filled up last time we had covered 297 miles and averaged 22.0 MPG. We pulled out of the service station down to the bottom of the hill to the traffic lights. Sue had set the sat-nav to take us to J15 on the M40 where we could follow the directions given in the Caravan Club handbook for the Warwick Racecourse site. As the lights changed I shot forward rather unexpectedly. I had been used to lack of power pulling away and the Freelander shot away from the lights like a 17 year old in his modded blacked out windows with a drainpipe for a exhaust Citroen. We pulled up at the next set of lights…. it was strangely quiet. The engine was ticking over with hardly any noise. I pulled away normally without any problems. We joined the M20 heading for the M25 and eventually the M40. I put my foot down to accelerate to merge with the other traffic and found I was going slightly faster than I should have been, I eased off and we settled in to the cruse at 2200 RPM… or 55 MPH.

On one section of the M25 near Ewell, the motorway has a steep climb on it, the signs say 10%. I pulled out of lane one to overtake some lorries that had slowed to 45 MPH and put my foot down. I didn’t change down from 5th, just squeezed a bit on the loud pedal. I was quite surprised to find I whizzed past them going uphill at 70 MPH and had to back off quickly and pull in again. That was it. I was convinced it was the fuel in France that had been the problem. We turned the radio on for the first time since leaving England and listened to the traffic reports on Radio Two tell us about a huge holdup on the M40 between J14 and J15 due to an accident. All three lanes were closed.

Thankfully it had all cleared by the time we were approaching junction 15 and we left the motorway to follow the directions given in the Caravan Club handbook. Now lets just say these instructions are a little lacking in detail and accuracy. We missed the turning for Shakespeare Ave… mainly because the distance from the last instruction is out a little and I did not expect to be turning into a suburban housing estate… we also went up the main high street which it advises against, but it wasn’t that bad. At the end of the main street we did a left and a left which just happened to take us past the Racecourse… so we followed the road a little, past a car park that had massive gates, the word ‘entrance’ next to it, but was full of Hymer’s, Tabbart’s and some really really mahoosive 5th wheel travel trailers, which all belonged to the fairground people. We continued on… Ah Ha, Shakespeare Avenue was on our left, so we needed to turn round. By now I was a dab hand at turning in tight places and at least this time it wasn’t piddling down. We passed Shakespeare Avenue on our right and the instructions said “at the end of Shakespeare Ave turn right onto A4189. Site on left in 1/2 mile across racetrack” Right… half mile…. entrance….carpark full of fairground caravans. I turned in expecting to see a Caravan Club sign and an arrow. Nope, bugger all. We had only gone fifty feet and I said to Sue “this is not right, jump out and watch me back into that gap, I’ll turn round”. As I said that a young lady jumped out of a shiney white Range Rover and said “I think you may be in the wrong place”. I appologised and she said there had been quite a few make the same mistake the last couple of days. I executed a quick reverse and turn… which must have impressed the fairground folk as they had gathered into a small crowd to watch us. I waived and shouted thanks to the lady that had intercepted us on the way in. She just smiled as she jumped back in her Range Rover.

We turned left out of the fairground campsite and followed the A4189 a little further to the racecourse offices and stands…. I turned in as there was a sign for a car park. As I parked up Sue read the instructions out again ” ……Site on left in 1/2 mile across racetrack”. Right, you should be able to see a caravan site of 55 pitches, its not that easy to hide them. The only vans we could see were way across the racetrack and belonged to the fairground people. Sue spotted someone to ask…. she came running back, “drive back down to the stands and follow the track round and cross the racecourse at the gap in the barrier“. Right ho….. I did another 180 degree reversing turn. We eventually pulled onto our pitch at 17:40.

(c) Caravan Club

If anyone from the Caravan Club reads this…. Please edit your directions, put some detail in there to make it a bit more clear and spend a few bob and put some feckin signs up! According to the wardens, we are not the first to have problems with the directions and there have already been a few complaints…. and move the ‘site’ flag on the map from the outside of the racecourse to the inside of it!

Sunday night was taken up with catching up with the news on the BBC news channel and for me relaxing… only a few more miles to drive and we didn’t have to be up early. Also it wasn’t raining.

We left Warwick Racecourse site at 10:30 for the 120 mile drive home. The Freelander was in fine fettle and we got our discount on the M6 toll using our Caravan Club membership cards. We pulled into our storage site at 12:55. When we got home I filled up the tank to the brim again, 57.91 litres and 357 miles… it worked out to exactly 28.0 MPG, the same as we had got on the fuel leaving the UK.

Would we do it again? – Yes, but covering that distance in that period of time was not for us, it was just too rushed. It is a minimum of two or three nights stop anywhere as we seemed to just miss the really good bits of France and pass by things we wanted to see.

Would we do it that time of year? – No, the weather was an issue, probably early September would be the latest.

Would we use Dunkerque as a crossing point? – If we were going to Belgium, Holland or further north, yes. But doing the maths it would actually break even or even be marginally cheaper getting the ferry to Le Havre and travelling south from there.

What about the ‘soft road’ stuff? – Excellent! If you havent taken your 4×4 off tarmac except for the occasional grass pitch, give it a go. There are 1000’s of kilometres of these single track trails criss crossing France. There are also lots of trails for experienced ‘green laners’ too. I’m sure Phillip would love to hear from you.

Any other tips? – Yep, Chris & Fran told us about an electronic tag for the toll system in France. We wish we’d had one. Some of the toll booth lanes only have machines at the height for lorries. nothing warns you of this. The lanes are also extremely tight towing a caravan, opt for the most right hand toll lane you can, they are usually a lot wider for lorries. Check out the Sanef UK Liber-twebsite.

Anything else? – Yes, driving in France, as people will tell you, is really easy going. That said, don’t think because the traffic is lighter and the driving easier that you will cover distances quicker. Driving 200 miles is still 200 miles no matter what country you are in. In fact, if you are towing, it might take you slightly longer as there are some long climbs. They have a lot of “M6 Shap” type climbs. Oh…. and if you are towing avoid Paris, that’s what we were told.

Would you do anything different next time? – Yes, we wouldn’t use the Freelander. When we bought the caravan we had an engine remap done. It was specific to the Freelander and increased the low down torque for towing, and it has been fantastic. However, it did reduce the ability for the engine to cope with low grade fuel. Land Rover set their engine systems to cope with a wide standard of fuel. Unfortunately I’d never considered that fuel in Europe would differ much from country to country. As part of the remap I had the ability for it to cope with lower grade fuel removed. So we are now looking for a Land Rover Discovery just as a tow vehicle, which means our little Brabus Roadster has to go.

And Finally…..

At the end of this trip I made a discovery. Somewhere at our last stop at Camping Risle Seine or on the trip back to the UK and home I lost my wedding ring. It’s been on my finger for the best part of 29 years and it’s a devastating loss. To Sue: I am so sorry.

If anyone visits Camping Risle Seine – Pitch 1, or Warwick Racecourse Site and finds a rather thin, battered, and misshapen wedding ring, please get in touch, it might be mine.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed finding out about our “French Connection” adventure.

Till next time…. which will be the Christmas Market in Lincoln, unless we can get away before than.

The wind was still blowing, but as we had stored the awning canopy the previous day, we didn’t have a night of tapping and banging. The site was in darkness as I crept outside to start disconnecting things. Sue was tidying away all the loose items inside and I started at the back of the van….. the Thetford Cassette was first. Thankfully I didn’t have to empty it by torchlight as Phillip had installed lights over the Elsan point and Grey water point. Next came the wastehog followed by the aquaroll and finally the EHU lead. By the time Sue had finished we were ready to wind the steadies up. I had intended to use the manual handle, but unfortunately I’d parked too close to the rear wall so I had to use the Makita which seemed to sound like a road drill in the darkness. Apologies to anyone if it woke them.

We turned the caravan at an angle by hand, so that it was a quick reverse straight on to the hitch and I didn’t have to have the engine running too long. We coupled up, connected the break-away cable and the 13 pin plug, released the van’s hand brake and jumped in the Freelander. I started the engine and allowed the outfit to roll gently down the slight hill in first gear without any throttle. We crept past Chris and Fran’s van before turning on to the small lane and climbing up the incline to the cross roads. It was 7:18 as we pulled away. Sue had a couple of small bags of rubbish and a bag of empty bottles and a bag of paper for the recycling bin. Rather than stop and use the ones just outside the camping area, we followed the road out and at the next cross roads there were more bins so we stopped and, while Sue tried to silently drop glass bottles into a glass recycling bin, I programmed up the Sat-Nav…. “Camping Risle Seine”….”fastest route”…. “accept toll roads”…….. “planning route – 716 Km to go”.

We followed the narrow road towards the D704. In places the wind had brought down a lot of small branches from the surrounding trees, but nothing that couldn’t be avoided by driving around. Within a few minutes we were on the D704 heading past Montignac and on towards the D6089 and Terrasson. The wind was quite light and I didn’t really notice it towing the van. Once on the A89 there were a couple of the warning signs telling us of strong winds, but I didn’t think that they were excessive and they didn’t seem to be pulling me about even when we crossed some of the viaducts. Once on the A20 the signs weren’t warning us about the wind any more and I allowed the Freelander to accelerate back up to 55 MPH.

It was approaching 9:55AM as we pulled into one of the Aires, the ESSO station at Bois Mande. I brimmed the tank again and it took 37.16 litres. We had covered 257 miles since the last fill up so averaged 31.4 MPG. This was a quick fuel stop and by 10:05 we were pulling back on to the A20. The rattle was back a little. I did notice that on some of the long inclines I was having to change down a gear which normally the Freelander will hold 55 MPH towing even if it won’t accelerate. We settled in for the long haul.

We had left the Autoroute and were on the N10 heading for the A13 on the outskirts of Versailles and the traffic was starting to build up. I didn’t really want to tangle with traffic but there you go, we had had it good up to now. As we were on a duel carriage way not quite on the Autoroute all three lanes were at a crawl and we weren’t sure why. Then we heard it… the familiar sound from dozens of films, including the Inspector Clouseau Pink Panther films… that slightly asthmatic out of tune two note siren that I cannot take seriously. I could still hear it as it was getting louder and louder… I checked in the mirrors … nope nothing. Opening the window a bit more to establish some sense of direction did not help…. it was still getting louder. Then I saw it, well actually I saw several cars in my left hand mirror parting slowly, creating a gap, then closing in back round it. I still couldn’t see anything except this gap moving closer. There it was, a tiny dark coloured Renault with one blue light in the windscreen and a screeching siren. I have a brighter torch than that tiny pathetic blue light. He pushed down the side of the caravan with his door mirror less than half an inch from leaving a big scar down the side. A second siren sounded….. this time I was prepared and I moved over to the right as another car squeezed past, its out of tune siren clearing the way and a tiny blue light in the front windscreen. Seriously guys…. GET SOME MAHOOSIVE STROBE LIGHTS FOR THE ROOF! traffic will clear much faster for you.

As I’d moved over, I’d committed the cardinal sin of driving on French roads, I’d let the gap in front increase to about 6 feet. Well that was it. A woman with a 500 Euro hair doo in a massive shiny black Mercedes 4×4 who was on the phone, while programming a sat-nav with what seemed like a 40 inch hi-def screen, and simultaneously handing out snacks to two children on the back seat pulled in and stopped dead in front of me. She was obviously a veteran of the “Arc de Triumph” roundabout. After another 10 minutes it became obvious what the hold up was. As the road narrowed down to two lanes on the opposite carriageway there was a small car on the hard shoulder that was well alight…. parked immediately behind it was a fire engine with a fireman stood in front with a small hose that seemed to be watering it rather than trying to put the inferno out. Amazingly, cars were still passing in lanes one and two. OK, so they did slow down a bit… but that was while they warmed their croissants as they passed. The whole holdup only took 20 minutes from joining the back of the queue to Sue warming the croissants.

If that was on the UK motorway the Highways Agency would have closed all three lanes on one side and probably the opposite carriageway too while several fire engines and half a dozen police cars would have cordoned off the danger zone, and five miles back in the queue of traffic the tarmac lads would be waiting to re-tarmac the area, and the motorway would open six hours later.

It was approaching my bladder capacity limit (how Sue can hang on for longer I’ll never know!) and at 15:10 we pulled into the BP Aire at Louviers. As we pulled in the Freelander was feeling down on power again. I’d not noticed it much apart from in the long climbs but it was hard to judge really. I filled up to the brim again, this time with a treat…. BP Ultimate Diesel. 48.58 litres and we’d done 260 miles since the last stop, so an average of 24.3 MPG this time. We were back on the road by 15:15…. I’d managed in my best French to actually tell the girl which pump I was on and pay for the fuel. I also asked where I could get some cigars and even managed to ask for the right ones in the kiosk without once having to revert to English and gesticulations. I just wish Sue was in the service station with me instead of being sat in the car… she would have been so proud that all the correcting me each time was paying off. I felt really chuffed.

We eventually arrived back at Camping Risle Seine at 16:25 after a drive of 440 miles (708 Km), and a total trip time of 9 hours and 7 minutes. I was so glad we didn’t have any driving to do tomorrow. We had to wait until the office opened and just hoped that as we were a day early, they could fit us in…. which didn’t seem like a problem as most of the pitches were empty. There was another English couple with a twin axle van waiting when we arrived. They had already had a wander round and said they thought the pitches were too waterlogged and would probably drive further north for an hour or so. I did not want to drive further north, and as Pitch 1 was vacant I knew that the ground was firm as we had been on it a few days earlier. Ten minutes later we were settled on pitch 1, hooked up and power on.

We took a trip into Pont Audemer to visit the Intermarche. We stocked up on bottled water to put in the car and bought some rather nice fresh smoked salmon. Later “One Hairy Caravanner” donned his apron and cooked a spicy risotto with smoked salmon.

Saturday 20th October

It was a lazy start to the day. The rain had returned overnight, but it wasn’t torrential so we decided that wandering into Pont Audemer and maybe finding somewhere to have a coffee and croissant while doing a spot of people watching was just the thing for a Saturday morning.

Top Tip:don’t head for one of the car parks…. there are plenty of free parking spaces on the quay side… “Quai Felix Faure” on the map and walk down Rue Notre-Dame du Pre and cut across to the town centre.

Pont Audemer is actually a little gem of a town. It has a history going back to the 12th century and some fantastic architecture. In the 18th century, the English settled there and introduced tanning and paper making and it became the centre for

various different trades. After doing a bit of window shopping, we found a nice little street cafe on ‘Rue de la Republique’ to sit and watch the world pass by.

Saturday was obviously a get out there, buy the longest French loaf you can, then wander round with it and greet anyone else who carries a similar loaf like a long-lost friend type of day. We sat and watched as people wandered past, loaves in hand. In fact it was hard to spot someone without a loaf… even the children seemed to have smaller loaves of their own. We felt we needed a loaf… we must have a loaf. Were people looking at us because we didn’t have a loaf… were they shouting “Regardez, le n’ai pas de pain“…. we set off to buy a loaf…. and a newspaper for Sue, who was getting quite irritated that she’d not been able to read a paper for three days. “Oh non, c’était l’heure du déjeuner, tout était fermé” It was lunchtime and everywhere was closing. We called off the search for ‘pain’ and instead turned our attention on where to go for lunch.

We wandered down Rue de la Republique and into Place Victor Hugo, where they have a fantastic water feature. At each cafe we inspected the menu… the translation was becoming somewhat easier and even I found I was reading in French knowing what it was and not doing the mental translation flip in my head. That was of course until I came across an item on the menu I didn’t know and it fell apart. Sue seemed to be faring better. We finally ended up across from where we had started back on Rue de la Republique almost opposite the cafe we had sat at. Out of all the different cafe’s offering a wide variety of food, we chose one that did fresh hand-made stone baked pizzas. We ordered a couple of pizzas, a salad for Sue and a bottle of local house wine. You know, I could get used to this life!

That evening I managed a minor miracle…. I managed to get my Vodaphone dongle to connect and we had internet! We needed somewhere to stay when we got off the ferry in Dover. I looked at the map and Warwick was on our route and about half way home. The Caravan Club have a site at Warwick Racecourse, so five minutes later we were all booked in and I received a confirmation email… on my laptop not my iPhone, which thanks to Everything Everywhere (now renamed Nothing Nowhere) all my iPhone could do was display “No Service”.

Next time…..We revisit one of Bonnie Tyler’s greatest hits, we do a Blues Brothers impression and we thank the UK Border Agency.

Well, the rain returned overnight. Peering out through the windows of the caravan, to those of us from Manchester…. (that would be me and Sue then), it looked like it was set for the day. There wasn’t any ‘soft roading’ action planned for today, so it looked like a trip out to Sarlat, about 25 Km south, was on the cards. There wasn’t much hurry so a leisurely start to the day with twenty minutes of trying to decipher the local TV news ensued. We left the site around 10:30 and headed south along the D704 towards Sarlat and I at least hoped that I would be able to find a nice pavement cafe and have a petit déjeuner croissant and coffee while watching the world pass by.

The Freelander was running much better than it had been and we followed the road, past some impressive piles of logs, without any rattling from the engine. We arrived in Sarlat and followed the signs for the town centre. We managed to park in a small car park up a hill at the back of the main shopping street and for a reasonable one Euro got four hours of parking. Sue found a brolly in the door pocket of the Freelander and we wandered back down to the main shopping street. Despite the drizzle, I decided that having the collected contents of the top of the umbrella repeatedly emptied on one shoulder while being poked in the forehead by the pointy bits of the brolly with similar frequency was slightly more annoying than getting wet in the drizzle. After a brief look at an engraved map of the town to get our bearings, we set off in the general direction of the hub of things.

Wandering down a side street we came across a tower next to the church that has a number of market stalls inside, but what made this really impressive was the size of the door. I’ve seen some mahoosive sliding doors on hangers, but this was the biggest swing door I’d ever seen. I don’t have a photo of it as I’d left my camera in the car due to the inclement weather. I must upgrade my iPhone to one with a few megapixels… that would be a start. Mind you If I remembered my iPhone had a camera, that would be an even better start.

Wandering past the shops and peering in the windows, it became apparent that Sarlat was the centre of “duck and goose abuse” with the amount of shops all specialising in or selling Foie Gras. It also seemed to be the centre of tinned, bottled and generally pre-package “cassoulet” too. Well I guess they have to do something with the other bits of the ducks and geese they have left. Most of the pavement cafe’s were preparing for the lunch time rush, so we wandered on and came full circle back on to the main shopping thoroughfare. We eventually came across a cafe that had tables outside that were sheltered from the rain and sat down. Sue went inside and ordered coffee and Stella… well it was nearly lunchtime. We sat and watched the shops up and down the street. It was approaching lunchtime and as the local clock chimed out one o’clock lights went off, shutters dropped and signs in doors were flipped over to “fermé”.

A few years earlier we had sat outside at a pavement cafe serving tapas in Gerona, and witnessed the spectacle of everything shutting for two hours while lunch was taken. Then, as now, we thought how civilised, and always thought of office and shop workers in the UK that seem all too frequently have to have a lunchtime snack sat at their desk or workplace.

As the shops started to open again after lunch, we paid the bill and headed off back to the car. I never did get my petit déjeuner croissant. At least the rain had eased. Leaving the centre of Sarlat via the one way system we passed a number of motor-homes parked up in car parks. It would seem that some towns have facilities for overnight stops for motor-homes. The Freelander was still behaving itself as we turned north on the D704.

That afternoon Sue caught up on the news from home in a paper we had managed to obtain while I got my Macbook out and started drafting “The French Connection – Pt 1” That evening we polished off the remainder of the cheese and meats we had bought the day before with some more fresh bread we collected on the way back from Sarlat.

Wednesday 17th October

Wednesday morning – high cloud breaking up with a 4 knot breeze out of the south-west

Wednesday started with more promise than Tuesday had done. It had stopped raining sometime in the night and looking out, the clouds were high and breaking up. All in all it looked like a good day for more off road adventures. Phillip had said on Monday that today would be a bit more challenging with a number of different surfaces. The departure time was again 11:30 am so we had a leisurely start to the day. We had another go at deciphering the local news, without much success, but we did find out that some French stations ‘simulcast’ the original English language soundtrack of programmes that have been dubbed into French. Quite useful as we had now watched the entire set of “Gavin & Stacey” including the Christmas editions that I’d copied on to a portable hard drive….. lush. At least now that evening we could watch “The Big Bang Theory” in English on the local tv channel.

We all assembled at the gate around 11:30 again. Phillip said we would be stopping for lunch at a spectacular view-point and the tracks today would be a little more challenging as they were not used as much and covered a different variety of surfaces, including flint. We set off initially on the same route we had done on Monday.

The view of La Tournerie across the valley.

Phillip explaining to Sue the history of La Tournerie while in the background Chris gets another shot across the valley

This time however, the view across the valley was not obscured in low cloud and offered an excellent view of La Tournerie.

We stopped there while everyone took a couple of photos and people chatted. Although we all knew each other via the various caravanning forums and had many ‘conversations’ on line, we had not actually sat down and talked except for small interludes like this.

We set off again in convoy. Despite all the rain the previous day the ground was firm and dry. Phillip explained that this year had been a particularly dry summer across the region and they needed all the rain they could to help build up reserves for next summer.

The tracks this time were more overgrown than the previous adventure. I’d pushed the button to swing the door mirrors into the parked position and hoped that the others had remembered to do the same. The surface changed from fairly compact limestone to a less compact and rough local rock. In a couple of places I’d used the Freelander’s “Hill Decent Control” on the steep sections as Ray’s Toyota Hilux which was in front of us locked up its rear wheels occasionally and slid on the loose surface. At the bottom of some descents the track was rutted and deep in mud, none of which caused any problems to any of the 4 x 4’s.

Damage to the rim after sliding off a lump of flint (click to enlarge)

The surface changed to broken flint, which can be particularly hard on tyres. The trick here was not to rush sections and let the wheels find their own course. Trying to turn sharply or spinning the wheels would probably result in a puncture with a piece of flint being driven through the side wall. Thankfully we all completed the section without punctures, although I did pickup some damage to the front near side rim when I slid off a rock and it kicked up.

The hill we were heading up for lunch

Philips promise of lunch at a spectacular viewpoint proved to be spot on. At the top of a 200 foot escarpment was an area where the local paragliders fling themselves off the edge and fly down, missing the power lines on the way, and descend into the grounds of a local Chateau.

We all managed to park up wedged in amongst the trees at the edge of a clearing. Walking to the edge gave a spectacular view of the valley below and across the valley was something that was familiar to Sue and I, a runway tucked on to the side of the hill on the other side of the valley…..

Wendy had once again provided an outstanding buffet… I can heartily recommend her home made sausage rolls complete with home made sausages and a rather fine tuna pasta that demanded seconds… or thirds even.

After lunch we tracked back down the hill and across through the grounds of one of the châteaux that was undergoing a massive restoration and rebuild. Some of the trails were a little more challenging and you could tell these were not as well-travelled as others we had been on. In winter some of these would be a bit of a challenge and I could see some of the tracks could need a bit of winching here and there. All too soon we were back at La Tournerie. The weather was warm and sunny with a light breeze so I thought it was time for my alter ego “One Hairy Caravanner” to don his apron and deploy the Cadac. The only problem was… we needed a few supplies. A trip to the Intermarche store in Montignac was required.

That evening “One Hairy Caravanner” donned his apron, fired up the Cadac to its ‘blast furnace’ setting and created “pan-fried new potatoes with chorizo and seared butterfly pork steak with a cayenne pepper drizzle” washed down with a rather lush white wine Sue had chosen. Unfortunately the wind was starting to pick up a little which required some delicate positioning of the Cadac lid as a wind break so we sat inside to dine. This is also the reason there are no photos of “One Hairy Caravanner” creating his masterpiece…. either that or Sue had spent too much time sampling and deciding on which wine to have with the meal.

PS… Sue wanted me to mention she also had some sliced tomatoes with a light vinaigrette as an accompaniment. There, mentioned it.

That evening after washing up and cleaning the Cadac (by the way, if you have a Cadac and haven’t tried the foam cleaner, give it a go… I think it’s fantastic!), we battened down the hatches as the wind was continuing to build up and we ended up watching a James Bond DVD that was part of a collection of DVD’s thoughtfully provided on a shelf in the ‘facilities block’ along with a selection of books.

Thursday 18th October

It was windy during the night, in fact on a few occasions particularly strong gusts felt like the caravan was lifting on one side. I got up a couple of times to check on the Fiamma Caravanstor awning. Although on the leeward side of the van it was having a severe flap, along with a metallic tapping sound which seemed to be right above our heads and a low thumping sound. I popped out a couple of times but could not see anything. I did however frighten the bejesus out of a rabbit that was taking shelter under our caravan step!

While the kettle was on for our morning coffee, I went out to investigate the sounds a little further…. the metallic tapping sound was actually the little finger grip part of the zip that closes the Caravanstor bag. It was in a position that allowed the wind to lift the bag and it would tap lightly on the side of the van. Closing the zip a little soon stopped that one and the thumping was… well I never did find out. After coffee Sue and I rolled up the awning and zipped it back in its bag which considering the wind, which I guess was blowing 30 knots, was quite easy to do.

As a pilot, I’d always been told “if you have a problem try to take it home, it’s always easier to solve back in your own hangar rather than sat in some remote airfield“. Obviously safety of the pax and crew always overrides this. The problem with the Freelander was still gnawing away in the back of my mind and on Saturday we had a drive of 440 miles to our overnight, then another 110 miles in the early morning to the ferry terminal. I think I’d already made the decision a couple of days earlier, but now I was convinced, we needed to leave a day early just in case, so that meant we would be leaving tomorrow. I thought if we can complete the 440 mile part of the return trip, I would have at least 24 hours to sort any problems and have a good break before potentially having to nurse the Freelander the remaining 110 miles before I could get her back on home turf. When planning the trip, I had taken out Red Pennant insurance, so if we did have a big problem, help was only a phone call away.

Thursday was a bit of an odd day one way or another. We spent some time tidying the van ready for the trip back. We decided that as it was potentially going to be a 9 hour drive it would be best to leave early… around 7:00AM. Another trip to the local Intermarche store to stock up on wine…. well when they were selling 3 litre boxes of good wine for 6 or 7 Euros, it would be silly not to take some back for testing!

It seemed that Chris and Fran must have had similar ideas as we met them in the car park. Chris had also just picked up the wheel for his caravan after having a new tyre fitted. It was also a chance to get the Freelander washed…. Phillip had actually managed to find some genuine French “splash it all over” mud the previous day and the Freelander was covered in it. Chris had similar ideas and pulled his truck on to the jet wash next to ours. I spent the afternoon with a spray of Dry Wash cleaning off streaks on the van and giving the Freelander a spruce up. This also included emptying all the door pockets of accumulated toll receipts and other bits of paperwork that weren’t needed. The wind was still blowing quite strong, although as we had descended from the hilltop that La Tournerie is on it abated somewhat, in fact in the Intermarche car park it wasn’t blowing at all.

Next time…..The long road north, a small fire in Versailles and will we make the ferry?

We rattled our way into Terrasson, which was shut on a Sunday. Even without the weight of the caravan in tow I could tell the Freelander was down on power and pulling away from stationary it was a challenge not to stall the engine. Luckily the local Intermarche supermarket had a couple of unattended self service fuel pumps so I could at least top up with hopefully some different fuel. Filling the tank to the brim again took 24.12 litres and the mileage now read 62445, so we had done 257 miles since the last fill up and now averaged 25.6 MPG. We pulled out of the Intermarche filling station and stopped a few hundred meters later outside a bank…. time to top up the Euro’s. I had a sneaking feeling that we may need quite a few if the Freelander ended up in a garage.

However, pulling away from the bank, the Freelander was feeling much better, not fully fit, but off the critical list. I had now convinced myself that on the balance of probability and with what Chris had said, it was down to the fuel. We drove back to La Tournerie in a slightly less rattley Freelander.

Monday 15th October

Err….. where did everything go?

Today was our first venture ‘soft road’. Phillip had briefed everyone to be ready to go at 11:30. We woke up around 7:30 and peered out of the windows…. where did everything go?. We were enveloped in cloud. As most of the Dordogne is on the edge of the ‘central massif’ we were at around 2000 feet above sea level, so basically we were sat in a cloud. Not knowing the local weather systems I didn’t know if this would clear in an hour or sit there all day. However, as there was a three or four knot breeze, at least it should blow through, and within twenty minutes it had started to thin out.

More caravans appear out of the clouds!

By 9:30 it was thin enough to see the outlines of clouds above so it would not be too long before it had gone completely. At the appointed hour people started appearing and the 4 x 4’s lined up at the gate with Philips blue Defender at the front. I had been undecided if it was a good idea to go on the off road trip with the Freelander engine not being performing 100 percent, but after adding the fuel yesterday and seeing the difference, I thought at least using more fuel and topping up again would at least dilute the ‘iffy’ fuel already in the tank. Anyway, there were enough 4 x 4’s there to be able to recover me out of almost any situation and I’d got my bag of off roading stuff in the back – collapsible solid tow link, recovery ropes, strops, shackles, hand winch, kinetic recovery rope and a couple of ground anchors.

Morning briefing…..

Phillip gave us a briefing on the type of roads we would be travelling on and their history. France is criss-crossed by small tracks used by the “chasse” (the hunt). Each weekend, groups of locals head out into the countryside using these tracks. They park up and disappear into the woods armed with rifles to basically shoot anything that actually moves…. from wild boar to sparrows…. and including each other sometimes. Thankfully Monday was not a hunting day for the locals. Apparently there are tens of thousands of kilometers of these roads all over France. Considering how few ‘green lanes’ we have in the UK and how busy some of them can be, especially over bank holiday weekends, I am surprised there isn’t an invasion of UK 4×4’s trying out these roads.

Our first stop…. to admire the view across the valley to La Tournerie…. honest it’s there!

When off roading don’t get too close to the vehicle in front just in case they have a problem, you want to be able to keep winching distance away just in case.

…. next stop lunch!

Wendy provided a splendid buffet lunch, including rather nice local wine – for the non drivers of course! The sun finally broke through and the sky cleared as well.

The buffet clean up department wait patiently in the back of Phillip’s Defender until called on for food disposal duty.

Back on the trail. Despite it being October, autumn had not yet reached this far south.

Every so often the trail opened up and you passed by a small field that was being cultivated…

The trails were easy and ideal for first time off roading. It allows anyone to explore the hidden world off the beaten track.

Beside the river in Montignac

All to soon we found ourselves back at La Tournerie. The trails had been mainly dry and fairly easy to negotiate, ideal for ‘soft roading’. I still wanted to see if I could get some diesel additive, so we set off to go into Montignac for a wander round. The Freelander had spent the last three or so hours on tick-over in first or second gear and had performed admirably and I hadn’t really noticed any problems. The rattle was still there on tick-over though and the low end power seemed lacking. We parked up close to the river and walked through some of the back streets following the riverbank towards the old bridge. The sun was shining, and even for October it was quite warm. Wandering past some of the old streets it always fascinates me that places always seem deserted with shutters over windows and no signs of life in a lot of buildings except for the occasional cat sat sunning itself on a balcony looking down on us feigning disinterest but watching our every move.

Crossing the old bridge we found a small ‘Tabac’ and “Presse’ and Sue managed to get an English newspaper and I bought some cigars which was strange really as I’d stopped smoking cigars quite a while ago. I guess my stress levels over the Freelander kicked in. We walked along one of the streets until it opened out into a small square surrounded by cafes. Apart from a young couple sat at a table outside one cafe both smoking cigarettes and hanging on the last drops of coffee in tiny cups, and an old gentleman sat outside a doorway of what seemed to be an private house, the square was deserted. We followed the edge of square and stopped to admire some of the wares on display in the patisserie window. A small alley led us back to the river and we walked back towards the old bridge. Crossing the bridge again and heading in the general direction of the car park we passed a few more shops and what I think was the town hall. As we had not planned anything for an evening meal, and the weather was so nice, it looked like there might be a chance of deploying the Cadac. We wandered back to the car and set off for the local Intermarche for supplies.

While Sue wandered off checking out the price of wine and varieties on offer in the extensive wine section, I was drawn to the tool and hardware section of the local Intermarche supermarket. I wandered past shelves of tools and hardware – thinking some would make welcome additions to my workshop, when I came across the car spares section and looking through all the oils on display there was a shelf that was full of a range of diesel and petrol additives. Donning the reading glasses in a vain hope it would help me to decipher the French instructions on one of the bottles I admitted defeat…. and headed off to find Sue who had the French dictionary in her handbag. After much page turning and some speculation on the deciphering of the instructions, including swopping of reading glasses as Sue had left hers back in the caravan, two bottles of Diesel additive were dropped into the trolley…. along with two or three bottles of wine and a 3 litre box of sauvignon blanc we then headed off to the food section.

Long shadows cast by the setting sun, but still warm enough for some to sit out while Sue tests the wine!

I had added some of the diesel additive to the Freelander. It made a big improvement almost immediately. At least I was now almost certain that it was not an issue with the engine but fuel related. On tick-over the engine sounded almost normal and the low down pulling power had returned. I did start thinking as there was a shelf full of different additives in the local supermarket, was this a known issue by the French and they just solved the problem by adding stuff to their tanks?

We ended up not deploying the Cadac as we had found a fine selection of local cheeses, meats, garlic olives and good artisan bread…. and a couple of bottles of nice wine to accompany it with. Oh yes…. Sue had some salad as well.

I had slept like a log even though the rain continued to rattle off the roof all night. Sue, who is a light sleeper, had not faired so well. It was still raining as we sat there and had coffee. The night before we were looking at the CC camping book for our next site and being October and everything shut in September we had a choice of three…. two were way off our route and the third just north of Limoge. We decided to ask if the chap in the office could ring through and book us in. Our combined French was enough to decipher a menu or order coffee….. but definitely not up to the standard of making bookings over the phone. The small office for Risle-Seine did not open till 10:00… so we put the kettle on again.

The young chap was very helpful and left a message on the site answer phone including our details and confirmed we would be stopping that night. He assured us that as it was a municipal site, it would be open and they would be expecting us and there was nothing in the message given by the answer phone to indicate otherwise. With that in mind, we programmed the junction number on the A20 given in the directions in the Caravan Club book. We had about 310 miles to drive. At 10:20 we pulled off the pitch, in the rain, and headed east-ish… that was until the Sat-Nav came over all French again and decided it wanted to take us north back over that very nice toll bridge over the Seine. ‘Non’!. After some delicate navigating on a map that was obviously designed not to be used for navigational purposes (this map feature will become a recurring theme), and some suitable gesticulating by Sue who by now I swear was gesticulating with a French accent, we found ourselves back on track on the A13 and heading in the right direction.

We were getting low on fuel and I planned at the next Aire we would fill up. On the A13, the next Aire was just outside Versailles…. so we pulled in and I filled the Freelander to the brim – 53.85 litres. The mileage was 62029, so since leaving Morrison’s in Canterbury we had done 247 miles, which meant we had only got 20.9 MPG!. Driving through all the rain and the long hills had taken it’s toll on the MPG and the slightly higher cruise speed of just over 60 MPH instead of 55 had made a difference. It was 11:15 as we pulled out of the Aire and we still had a way to go. It was still raining. As I accelerated onto the Autoroute, the Freelander didn’t feel quite right but nothing I could put my finger on. I reduced our cruise back down to around 55 MPH.

We had only spent around 20 minutes in the Aire, just enough time to fill up and procure some nibbles for the trip and obtain two rather nice coffee’s that seemed to have added chocolate… wrong button pushed on the machine, but a result! The kilometres ticked by and by 2 pm the fuel needle was the wrong side of quarter full again. The next Aire was only a few kilometers up the road and we pulled into the filling station 20 minutes later. Brimming the Freelander again took 57.54 litres and the mileage indicator said 62309. So we had done 280 miles and achieved 22.1 MPG, so reducing the overall cruise speed was working but I’d not gained as much as I’d hoped I would reducing my speed. We pulled forward into a parking area designed for caravans…. or so the sign would have you believe. The turn in was impossibly tight and OK, I know we are 38’6′ or 11.72 metres as an outfit, but we are not that big. I managed to run over the kerb. Bugger. No obvious damage to the tyre, and thankfully the van did not contact anything. We parked up and had a leg stretch… and went in search of more of that nice coffee. The exit from the parking area was even tighter and two thoughtfully placed lumps of rock had my head spinning from mirror to mirror as we only just squeezed out.

As I went to pull away I stalled the engine. Not my normal driving standard. I restarted the engine and tried to pull away again, then the engine was rattling and seemed to have little power. I only just managed to pull away without stalling a second time. Once we were moving it seemed OK…. although it was sluggish when accelerating back onto the autoroute. Every time I came off the power…. I seemed to get “injector rattle” which isn’t a rattle at all but more akin to ‘pinking’ in petrol engines. I started to wonder about the last two fuel stops. The manual for my Freelander says ‘no biodiesel or biodiesel additives’. I was almost sure that the pump I’d used on both occasions were straight ‘gas-oil’. The lack of power was noticeable and I had to reduce our speed somewhat.

Car park Camping…. line up line up, plenty of space

As we approached Junction 24 that we were to turn off I saw the signs for an Aire… one without fuel and services…. but it did have facilities, and my bladder needed facilities! It was 17:25 as we pulled out of the Aire and a few kilometers further on we exited via junction 24 to follow the directions given in the Caravan Club book. The directions were a bit flakey but we eventually found the entrance to the site and at 17:40 pulled into the car park.

Car park with a view…. at least we had a view!

Well when I say car park, it was actually a gravel area outside the entrance barrier where they stored all the rubbish bins. It was occupied by a couple of motor-homes and three caravans all pitched for the evening. It would appear the campsite was closed and a big metal barrier across the entrance confirmed this. That was it. I was tired and had been pondering the possibility of an engine issue for the last couple of hours. I swung the outfit round and reversed in a lazy ‘s’ back into the end spot next to a very small Dutch caravan. We had gas, a fully charged battery and plenty of water. The loo was primed with green stuff and pink stuff so we could survive the night. If there had not been any one else there, I guess my Britishness would have kicked in and we would have driven on into the night trying to find somewhere ‘official’. When in France….. shrug your shoulders, turn your palms upwards and go “Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ” while shaking your head. I didn’t even bother unhitching. We were level enough, so Sue just dropped the steadies down to stop any movement. Within 5 minutes of arriving, the kettle… or in this case, the pan was on and a brew soon followed…. so did a large glass of wine or two and a few beers. At least it had stopped raining.

According to the CC book, it was open all year round. According to the Dutch club’s guide it was open all year round. According to the French…. it was shut due to holidays.

The letter pinned on the barrier….. “City Hall Bessines informs you that camping at Morterolles is closed to the public from 8 October to 21 October 2012 due to annual leave of the keeper”.

Sunday 14th October

We were up and ready to go… well all we had to do was wind the steadies up and connect the 13 pin plug. We pulled out of the car park sounding like an old Lister engined tractor. Thankfully everyone else had either gone or was ready to go, so it gave me chance to leave the engine idling a few minutes while it warmed up. We only had around 110 miles to go to La Tournerie Ferme near Montignac and taking it easy I guessed it would take around two and a half hours.

We pulled back onto the A20 and the Freelander just about managed to get us up to speed before the end of the acceleration lane arrived. The rattle was still noticable at 1500 RPM but once up to speed in top gear at around 2000 RPM, the Freelander seemed OK. We sailed through Limoge. We had been here before many years earlier in a Piper PA28. We were low on fuel and it was the days before chip and pin…. the refuel guys wanted Francs so we had to go into the centre to find a bank that would allow us to draw cash on a card….. and we arrived just as the banks shut for their customary 2 hour lunch. At least it was 38 degrees and sunny then.

At 9:40 we pulled into another Aire. It was piddling down yet again and some of the car park was flooded, so since you could not see the parking bays I just pulled up along side a kerb. If anyone said anything I decided I’d shrug my shoulders, turn my palms upwards and go “Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrr ” while shaking my head. Sue found the big brolly and we made a dash for the shop. As we had a speedy departure this morning, we didn’t have chance for a proper breakfast…. and up to now, I still had not had a traditional French breakfast where I could sit and eat my butter thingy’s while sipping a strong black coffee and watching the world go by. This stop would still not allow me that luxury. However, once again we obtained coffee from one of those nice machines, and some breakfast type French sticks with salami and cheese. By 10:10 the rain had stopped and the car park was draining nicely, enough to show we had parked across eight or ten bays…. but by then we had started a trend. A German outfit was parked across the way and a French car towing a trailer was behind us. Before anyone could point a finger and say “They started it” we were on our way, rattling back on to the autoroute. An hour later we were passing through Terrasson on the D6089 looking for the D704 that would take us into Montignac.

Phillip has put a detailed set of instructions on his web site on how to find the site as some of the roads were not suitable for towing. Unfortunately I’d assumed that we would be able to access the internet in France to be able to download these, but despite having between us two iPhones (Thanks Everything Everywhere… at least when you were Orange I could make and receive phone calls abroad – now all I got was “no service”), a 3G Dongle with international roaming and a Vodaphone PAYG Dongle with international roaming, we, or rather I, had failed miserably to access the internet. The outcome of this was we didn’t have the instructions given on the web site on how to find them via suitable roads. The saving grace was that a few months earlier I had programmed all the turn by turn instructions into our Sat Nav so it was just a matter of connecting the dots.

We eventually rattled our way onto site at 11:45. At least it looked like it hadn’t rained here and it was actually quite mild temperature wise. We were the last to arrive out of the group of “soft roaders” (if you follow the caravan forums you will know “Megladon” “Indoors” and “Doosan”) As Phillip wasn’t there, we waited a while and got chatting to Chris (Megladon) & Fran and were swopping tails of the trip… they had had a tyre blow out on the van while travelling down (everyone safe) and I was relating our rattly diesel issues and Chris said it might be the fuel as he’s had previous experience of something similar with dodgy fuel. The symptoms he described were exactly what we had been experiencing. Chris suggested adding some diesel additive to see if that improved things. After half an hour of chatting, Chris directed us on to a pitch next to Ray (Indoors).

It didn’t take long to set up… the pitch was well compacted and level so it only needed the steadies dropping. The electric connection was 6 amps and a continental style connector… not a problem – we did trip it a few times, but that was down to us not turning things off before turning something else on…. mainly Sue’s megawatt hair dryer and hair straighteners that seem to get to a temperature that allows them to smooth the ripples out of sheet steel.

We filled up the water container, deployed the waste hog and took the opportunity to check out “the facilities” which I can only describe as “Manifique”. After a spot of lunch we decided, although it was Sunday, to have a run into Terrasson and maybe there would be a garage or filling station open that would sell diesel additive.

Next time…… Some off roading, some fuel additives, and will we manage to deploy the Cadac?

Sometime back in January or February I’d posted something on Caravan Talk about arranging an off-road weekend for anyone that towed with a 4×4. It was really for anyone that had never actually experienced taking their 4×4 off-road before and if they would be interested in a camping weekend at one of the many off-road centers. I’d been in contact with a couple of the well-known establishments offering courses and they seemed to like the idea and could arrange for caravans to either stay local or in one case actually on their own land.

The response was a bit pathetic and no one seemed to show any real interest which was disappointing. However, as a result of that thread one of the other members said there were lots of good trails around his site – La Tournerie Ferme, near Montignac and why not come down to give that a try. The trails were fairly easy, offered various types of surface and would not be the full on “winch it out at every obstacle” tracks…. it would be more ‘soft road’ than ‘off road’ but would be good fun and an easy introduction to off-roading. It would also be a fantastic opportunity for anyone that had never ventured further than a pitch with wet grass in their 4×4 to see exactly what their tow vehicle could do. So the “Soft Roading Adventure” idea was born and Phillip posted info about it on the various caravan forums. Within a couple of weeks there were enough people interested that Phillip arranged a date at the end of the season in early October.

Thursday 11th October

We left home about 8:00 to go and pick the caravan up from storage. The previous day we had been over to the caravan and loaded almost everything except the stacking boxes that travel in the back of the Freelander with us. These boxes from The Really Useful Box Company contain the cooking ingredients and essentials and another box that had fresh orange juice and small bottles of water. I’d also checked the nose weight with the calibrated Milenco do-hicky while we were there and we were 10Kg over our ideal weight of 95Kg. Relocating the Cadac from the front locker to the Freelander put us spot on 95 Kg’s.

We rolled out of the storage place dead on 8:40 AM and threaded or way through the morning peak in the rush hour traffic on the M60. We passed Manchester Airport and settled in the inside lane that took us to the junction with the A556 and then to eventually pickup the M6 heading south. The traffic on the M6 was not too bad and we made good time eventually pulling in to Norton Caines services on the M6 toll road around 10:20 for a quick leg stretch and loo break. The rest of the M6 and all the way down the M1 was also fairly easy-going traffic wise.

Last time we headed down the M1 with a caravan in tow was before we bought this van and we had hired a Crystal Morea for a week to give caravanning a try. Then we hit the M25 at peak Friday rush hour traffic en route to Kelveden Hatch in Essex. This time we fared better and cruised round the M25 and over the Queen Elizabeth bridge without any delays, arriving at Canterbury at 14:30 after traveling 276 miles.

We were shown to our pitch and set up fairly quickly. We needed to be away first thing so it was not a major unpack of everything, just the essentials. I’d been busy the couple of days before with Anthony sorting out the first engine start of the new plane he’s built – I designed and constructed the electrical system so had to be there really. The other thing was sorting out Santa’s float for my old Rotary club. I’d designed a replacement for the previous one that had seen over 40 years of service, but old age had taken its toll and the club had decided a replacement was required. The float bit went OK and I collected it from the steel fabricators to take to my good friend Harry who was going to secure it to the new trailer and build sleigh runners. However the first engine start did not go as well and after just over two minutes of running resulted in a totally seized brand new engine. Ouch.

The result of all this was that I had been a bit pre-occupied and so I hadn’t organised any Euros…. with the exception of an old 5 Euro note I had found mixed in with a load of US dollar notes from past trips. It meant a visit to the local Post Office in Canterbury to exchange sterling for Euro’s…. and if we had time a trip to the old sweet shop we had discovered last time. The ‘Locally’ app on my iPhone soon found the nearest Post Office and we set off in the rain that had started just as we were un-hitching the caravan. We parked up and walked to the Post Office. With 300 Euro’s safely tucked in my wallet, we set off into the centre of Canterbury for a quick bit of window shopping to get the last couple of bits and hopefully to find the sweet shop we had found last time. We ended up dodging from shop canopy to shop canopy as the rain turned from that light drizzle to “its set for the day” grey solid rain.

Address and phone number for “Mr Simms Sweet Shop”

Sue spotted it first as she peered out from under a shop canopy – “Mr Simms Olde Sweet Shoppe“. A stock of the required Coltsfoot Rock, Cough Candy and Sue’s soft Wine Gums was purchased and we headed back out into the wet greyness.

We walked back to the Freelander and programmed the GPS for the nearest filling station which just happened to be Morrison’s. We set off to fill up ready for the following day. It took 45.05 Litres to fill to the brim, at a reading of 294 miles. 276 was towing so we averaged 28.4 MPG on the way down towing, plus 18 miles running around without the van on the back.

Friday 12th October

Parked up waiting for the ferry at Dover

Up early and everything stowed away by 7:55 am we were hitched up and pulling out of Canterbury C & CC site. It’s quite an easy and short trip – about 19 miles from the site to the Ferry terminal at Dover and by 8:45 we were parked up waiting for the ferry.

I took the chance to stick on the ‘beam benders’ to the headlights and check over everything – break-away cable, hitch, tyres, everything checked out OK and the beam benders seemed to be sticking like thingy to a blanket. I’d read that a couple of people had experienced them dropping off.

We were one of the first to board… I guess they wanted the trucks in a particular position and so we found ourselves behind an estate car that was pulling a twin axle trailer that deciphering stickers on the trailer looked as though it was destined for Poland. Following the wild gesticulations of the chap in front of the Freelander I pulled up as close as the man in the orange jacket further down the deck wanted and waited till he’d walked behind us gesticulating wildly to the next vehicle to close up to the rear of our caravan. I double checked the vehicle hand brake was on and we locked the car and headed off upstairs. My stomach was letting me know it was time for breakfast…. or ‘petit déjeuner’

Err….. that’ll be France then under that cloud….

As we were one of the first to board, we were also one of the first into the restaurant which meant we could get a table with a view. Mind you, even after we had left port the ferry was that quiet there were plenty of tables with a view.

The crossing between Dover and Dunkirk takes a little under 2 hours… so we had a little under two hours to watch the clouds build over France into a dark line marking the coast. Looking back towards Dover… the white cliffs looked resplendent in the sunshine we were leaving. Flying was so much easier…. at least you knew that ten minutes after take off you would be putting your sunglasses on no matter what the weather was ‘downstairs’.

My GPS….. ‘Go that way Pointing’ by Sue

We pulled off the ferry at exactly 13:15 local. We had around a three-hour drive to our first campsite, Risle-Seine just outside Pont-Audemer, west of Rouen.

The GPS Sat-Nav was programmed with the camp site, we chose ‘fastest route’ and we accepted the toll road option. However, the sat-nav seemed to have come over all French and decided the fastest route was through the centre of Paris. Hmm, I wonder if the GPS companies in revenge for having to remove all the French speed cameras decided to route everyone via Paris. We soon sorted it and were off on our merry way and within thirty minutes, the skies were getting brighter, the cloud was thinning and blue was starting to appear.

Driving on French roads… well Autoroutes only so far, was easy. The traffic was lighter and the roads were smooth lacking the lorry ruts that stretch up and down the first two lanes of most of the motorways in the UK. Towing at 60 MPH was more stable than 50 MPH on some UK motorways and I was happy towing at 60. There are a number of long climbs and descents on the E402 (A16 – A28) but with care these are not a problem and we found that with a bit of planning we were not holding anyone up. Around an hour into our drive south, the clouds had returned and the cloud base was now so low, the white marker lights on the tops of the wind turbines were lighting up the inside of the clouds and below each glowing cloud hung a ghostly white pedestal that touched the ground. It was now pissing down. No other way to describe it, it was a torrential downpour and the wind was increasing. We are from Manchester, so are almost ‘Rain Miester’s’ and we know ‘pissing down’ when we see it, but this was rain of biblical proportions.

The road had disappeared and was just a ribbon of water, with a barrier at one side and a ditch at the other, which was rapidly filling up. I looked in the towing mirrors, the caravan was hiding behind a plume of water being pumped there by the back tyres. It was a good job that the Michelin tyres we had fitted a few months earlier had an “outstanding” rain rating. Despite the conditions it seemed that nothing would slow down the lorries. They would sneak up in your blind spot… right behind the caravan… then suddenly pull out and whizz past, then pull back in almost as abruptly. Now I know why so many continental’s have rear view cameras fitted!

Around 50Km from Rouen, still in the rain, the GPS showed we were to follow the A29. We had expected to continue on the A28 into Rouen and round the town on the outer road and continue west on the A13… to Pont Audemer… and Camping Risle Seine was just on the western edge of the town. That’s what I’d expected when planning the route on Google Earth. I’d looked at the roads in street view and hadn’t thought it would be a problem. Maybe the GPS knew something about Rouen and Pont Audemer we didn’t.

The blue route was what we expected…. the red route across the toll bridge is what we got…. and the green route was how we should have departed

We followed its directions, and eventually ended up on the wrong side of the Seine with the directions to cross a mahoosive but impressive toll bridge on the D6178/A131 and once over follow the D6178. It took another 35 minutes to eventually arrive at the campsite after I’d started to ignore the directions of the sat-nav and use instinct and the snippet of knowledge I’d gained looking at Google Maps and the satellite view of the area. I’ll tell you, this navigating on the ground is far more difficult than navigating in the air. There we just have airways and join the dots…. N23 to BREVN then N64 to the airport…. whizz down the ILS and pull off a greaser and taxi to the terminal, fill in the paperwork, stow the Ray Bans in the top pocket and check the time on the big clock hanging off the wrist before heading off to the nearest bar. Sue can get me on to an ILS from 10,000 feet at 500 miles out….. now at zero feet we were doing our best Bonnie Tyler impression, “Lost in France……..”

We eventually arrived at the site at 17:30 around 4 hours 15 minutes after setting off so the “diversion” and the rain had added 1 hour 15 minutes to the trip. The chap in the office was very helpful and offered us any pitch…. we chose pitch 1 as it was an easy reverse on and as we were only stopping one night we would not disturb anyone leaving the following morning.

We pitched in the rain again. No surprises there then.

End of Part 1

Next time….. Camping in a car park, more French coffee and will it stop raining?

Part two of our “Camping with Wolves” aventure saw us leaving a sunny Combe Martin on the Thursday morning for the 150 mile drive north to Winchcombe C & CC site near Tewkesbury for 3 nights.

Being a Thursday, there was more chance of getting caught up in a traffic snarl-up with delivery vans along Combe Martin’s narrow main street. I think Mr Clarkson must have been having a late breakfast this morning though as we sailed through and onwards towards the Atlantic Highway. The sun was shining as we left and it was forecast to be sunny for the next couple of days which ment I would probably have another chance at incinerating something outdoors with the Cadac. Woo Hoo!

The M5 seemed full of caravans and motor-homes – all heading south. Lots of them, I mean mahoosive amounts of them, so what did they know that we didn’t? Had there been an apocalypse “up north” somewhere and they were fleeing for their lives? I think Devon and Cornwall would be full by around tea time at this rate. Continue reading →

One of the things that came easily to us when we started caravanning was packing. We’d read on ‘the forums’ about people packing experiences and how long it took to “pack and load”, but honestly we never gave it a second thought. I then started to wonder why. I figured it goes back to our early days of flying in small… really small aircraft where it was the norm to shorten the bristles on your tooth-brush to save on weight.

We had developed over the years a packing technique that seemed to lend its self to the caravan quite easily. Now we can “pack and load” quite quickly as the key is prior organisation. We opted to use boxes from The Really Useful Box Co which makes things easy. Their boxes come in a multitude of sizes and the lids lock on securely allowing the boxes to stack neatly. We chose boxes that slide under the front bench seats and will also pass through the locker doors. Continue reading →